


Augmented Triad

by Ellie5192



Series: A Little Light Music [21]
Category: Major Crimes (TV)
Genre: F/M, and then some suggestive little cooking, family worries
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-21
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-20 21:33:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/892120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ellie5192/pseuds/Ellie5192
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"He just scoffs at her and shakes his head, stepping towards the doorway. She grins as she watches him go. They’re getting really good at this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Augmented Triad

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter is dedicated to JohnnieWalkerGirl over on medullaoblongata(dot)typepad(dot)com. If you don’t know her blog, it’s fabulous. Just fabulous. Set and prop pieces only shed more light on our wonderful characters, and is a resource that every fandom should have. Thank you, Madame, for providing your wonderful services! Also, I have undertaken your challenge with trepidation; I have never made macaroons myself, though I have seen it done. I am, however, a collector of mugs, so there’s that.

**Augmented Triad**

 

She jumps a little bit in her seat at the slam of her office door. She looks up quickly and is not surprised to see Andy standing there with a scowl on his face, practically pacing in front of the doorway, his brow furrowed and his fists clenched. He is furious, but not with her, yet she also gets the impression that he’s terrified, and she’s stunned for a moment into silence. She’s never seen this particular combination in him, and there are only a handful of situations that come to mind that would cause it.

“Is it true?” he spits.

“Is what true?” she asks, calmly adjusting her glasses and leaning back in her chair to look at him. She crosses her arms lightly, for good measure, and is positive that she must look nothing short of a schoolmarm, but it is all part of her look, so she just rolls with it. It’s either that or completely freak out over his mood, and she’s never been one for theatrics, so she stays calm and hopes some of it rubs off on him.

“The kid got a threatening note?”

He stops being so frantic for a second and sits in a chair opposite her desk, pulling it closer and looking at her seriously. He rests his arms on her desk, leaning forward, and she eyes him closely. She can see now that his anger is actually intense worry, and that his jerky movements are due to the fact that he is one of the last to find out about Rusty’s letter. She smiles a little bit, just a flick at the corner of her mouth, to convey her sympathy to his feelings, and to thank him for caring so much.

“He did” she says, nodding slowly. His eyes turn frighteningly dark. “Care-of DCFS”

She is surprised when he deflates instantly. He leans back and lets out a relieved sigh, his face immediately softening, and her eyes go wide in realisation, and she leans forward towards him. Her hand reaches towards him without her even noticing, an unconscious gesture. She plants it on the table when it enters her line of sight, and leaves it there.

“Oh, Andy, no” she assures, quickly, softly. “No, it wasn’t sent to my home… we’re okay”

He only nods, his eyes finding hers. “Buzz didn’t mention where it was sent- I guess I just assumed…”

He looks suddenly very lost, which she can kind of understand, because they’ve gotten used to worrying for each other, and a tangible threat doesn’t really help matters much. She meets his eye, trying to ensure he doesn’t shut down on her. With all the drama with his daughter and his health, and Rusty beginning his trial preparation, she doesn’t want this to be the last straw. Not until it’s really something to worry about, and even then, she needs him to keep his head.

“What are you going to do about it?” he asks, all business except for the way he looks at her. A jolt runs through her stomach at that look. She smiles at him, a bag of mixed emotions.

“Nothing, for the moment”

“Nothing?”

She holds out a hand at his imminent outburst, and gives him a look to silence him. “The wording wasn’t threatening enough for the DA’s office to place Rusty in protective custody, nor was it severe enough for Taylor to approve the budget for relocation or extra protective measures-“

“Sharon, someone sent the boy a threat-“

“And they obviously don’t know where he lives” she says, forestalling his outburst again with a shake of her head. His eyes get angry, but he stays silent, encouraging her to continue. “And I carry and badge and a gun, on top of my very privileged Captain’s rank- Andy... there is no safer place for him to be than with me, you know that”

They are both sitting forward, imploring each other to hear their side, and for a moment they are at a stalemate. He stares at her, long and hard, and she can see that he’s trying to keep his cool about this, and it’s not completely working. She’s had this discussion at least three times today, and doesn’t really want to rehash the details with him again. She needs to him to just accept it this time and move on. She needs him to support her, but not push her; she’s worried enough as it is, without having to navigate his feelings too.

“So no protective measures?” clarifies Andy, still frowning.

“Not yet. Not until I know this is a legitimate threat”

“And if the prints come back negative? Sharon, if this person is writing letters with gloves on, sending them anonymously… it’s not going to matter that they don’t know your address. And it may only be a matter of time before-“

“Andy” she barks, cutting him off, pausing for a heavy moment to make him understand. “I don’t want you to worry about this. I know what I’m doing”

He closes his eyes and throws his head back, pursing his lips and letting out a long breath. He nods, his eyes still closed, and she watches him- the set of his shoulders and the curl of his fingers. She can see how difficult it is for him to stand down and let her handle this, and she purses her lips in a smile, grateful once again that she has him. He opens his eyes and they look at each other, and not for the first time she feels like he can see right down to her soul. His gaze is intense; with worry, with fear, with indignation. Mostly she sees that he’s just a little bit lost, because being a protector means needing to have an enemy to protect people from. A faceless person at the end of an anonymous pencil is not a tangible threat for him to fight, and those were always the scariest enemies to him.

She feels honoured to be counted among the few that he would bat for. She feels a swell of pride that he loves Rusty as much as she does. The boy has a lot of people on his side; Buzz and Provenza have shown their true colours in their response to the letter, staying informed every step of the way.

“Don’t you do anything stupid” he says to her. She can’t stop the sudden, single bark of laughter that escapes her. “I mean it”

“I know you do” she says through her chuckle, nodding.

He smiles then, the mood lifting, and they spend a few long seconds grinning madly at one another.

“You coming over tonight?” she asks. “I still have a few cooking lessons to give you”

“If we ever get outta here, sure”

She smiles in acknowledgement, and then nods. “You let me know” she says. He nods and then stands from his seat, putting his hands in his pockets to stop himself from reaching out and touching her.

“What’ll it be?” he asks, referring to his cooking lesson.

“Wouldn’t you like to know”

He just scoffs at her and shakes his head, stepping towards the doorway. She grins as she watches him go. They’re getting really good at this. Nobody seems the wiser, and yet they manage to find the balance. She’s more than a little surprised that it all hasn’t fallen on top of them, but willing to live in the moment as long as it lasts. She turns back to her paperwork, a ridiculous smile still on her face.

It is many late hours before she gets home that night. Rusty is waiting up for her, sitting on the couch and just killing time. She knows that this letter has put him very on edge, and so she knows that her latest request is not going to go down well. But she sits beside him on the couch and reminds him that he is still a child, and though he huffs and puffs as he walks back to his room, she knows he understands why she’s being cautious. It’s difficult for him to deal with not being normal. When every other boy his age is trying to fit in and find their place, she has no choice but to remind him that he’s different. Still, he’s adjusting well. She thinks he’ll be ready to face this thing when it comes time for the trial. But for now it is her job to make sure he gets there, alive and in one piece. She will not compromise where his safety is concerned.

She is shaken from her thoughts by a light and familiar tap on the door. She smiles to herself and stands, walking quietly over and pulling it open.

“I heard you were going to make me something delicious”

She smiles at Andy, pulling the door open enough for him to step inside. Once she closes it behind him he reaches out, throws an arm around her waist, and pulls her hard into a kiss. She is momentarily shocked, and lets out a surprised gasp as his lips explore hers. It doesn’t make much, though, for her to kiss him right back. She hopes Rusty is still sulking in his room, because it’s exactly the kind of PDA he threatened to call child services over, and she doesn’t care enough to stop.

“I’ve wanted to do that all day” says Andy when they part, pulling back without letting her go. Her arms have somehow found their way around his hips. Still in mild shock, she can only grin at him a little bit, recovering. “You think Provenza would have a heart attack if I did that in the middle of work?”

She pulls away from him with a smirk, lightly tapping his chest with one hand, shaking her head a little. She only notices now that he’s holding a small overnight bag in his other hand, and that explains why he bothered to come over so late. He keeps the bag in his car most days, because he spends at least a few nights a week at her place. She thinks it won’t be long and he’ll start doing some laundry here, and that thought is shocking and scary enough that she mentally changes the subject.

“So what did you have in mind?” he asks her. He can see she’s distracted, but chalks it up to this business with Rusty and lets it go. “Where’s the kid?”

“He’s in his room, sulking over me being overprotective”

Andy grins, and dumps his bag over next to her bedroom door, his eyes flicking for a moment down the hall, seeing the closed door and pointed silence. “You’re not overprotective” he says. “You’re just a mother”

She almost genuinely squeals over how _right_ it feels to hear him say that; she knows it’s the truth, but the warmth in his tone makes her feel, not for the first time, that the three of them have formed their own unique little family. He sounds so proud to be a part of that. She loves him more for it.

“I was going to bake something” she says instead, smiling and swaying on the spot. He makes his way over to her, thinking she looks downright cute.

“Bake something?”

“Something small, so you can have one. Only one” she adds, pointing a finger with a serious expression.

“Oh come on, but I’ve been so good. I walk every day, I’ve been eating salad- _salad_ ”

“I know you have” she says with a smile, patting his chest when he reaches her. She smiles at him again. She’s proud of how serious he’s been taking his health lately, but he still gets worked up, and though she won’t nag him, she really hopes he goes on the medication.

His arms come around her again, and she slides her hands up his arms and around the back of his neck, and he leans in slowly and kisses her. She moans-a high, light little sound, almost involuntary- and kisses him right back. It’s soft and sweet, and certainly a promise of more to come, later, when they’re all safely tucked in bed.

“Ew”

She parts from him with a laugh. Rusty shoots them a disgusted look and walks on through to the kitchen, and Andy just rolls his eyes and lets his arms drop from around her. They both smirk, and then follow the boy to the kitchen. He’s rummaging in the fridge, but gives up after a moment and turns to face the two of them.

“”How’re you holding up, kid?”

“Alright, I guess. Sharon says not to worry unless it becomes more serious”

Andy just nods. Rusty goes to look in the cupboard, but his searching turns up nothing there either, and he huffs under his breath.

“There’s a banana there” she says to him, gesturing to the fruit bowl. “And I’m going to bake a surprise, and you can have one in your lunch tomorrow”

“It’s getting late” says Rusty, confused but excited all the same. If it was a weekend he wouldn’t question it, but it’s the middle of the week, and she rarely stays up past bedtime, especially to bake.

“They won’t take too long” she says with a smile.

“What is it?”

“I’m not telling. It’s a surprise”

“Can I have one tonight?”

“It’s getting late” she replies, her tongue firmly in cheek. Rusty only huffs. He’s still annoyed that he has to go back to being dropped to and from school, but he recognises that Sharon is reaching out, and so he rolls his eyes good-naturedly and grabs a banana. “Fine. Then I’m going to bed” he says.

“Goodnight” she says, ignoring his mood. “Don’t forget to brush your teeth”

“Yeah yeah”

Andy only chuckles. Sharon smirks at him, and then takes off her jacket and drapes it over the back of a dining chair. He watches, fascinated, as she spend the next few minutes collecting baking ingredients from various locations, gathering them on the bench in a neat formation. She pulls out the metal mixing bowl from her electric mixer and puts in on the bench, and then flicks the button on the kettle. “You can make the tea while I do this” she says. Andy nods, and moves into the kitchen to follow her direction, and she reaches toward a cookbook on her bench that he’s never paid much attention. She opens the cover before he can read it, but he sees a brightly coloured biscuit-looking thing in the picture, and mentally rubs his hands in glee. This diet has been killing him. He can’t believe she’s going to be the one to break it.

He pulls open the cupboard with all her glasses and mugs, and for a moment just stares, mouth open in mild shock. He’s seen inside the cupboard before, of course, but figures Rusty must have just emptied the dishwasher, because it’s full for the first time, and chocked to the roof with mugs. All shapes and sizes, all colours, right there on the bottom and more convenient shelf. The full set of white mugs and a full set of glasses sit neatly on the shelf above, but right in front of his eye is a plethora of drinking receptacles that he was not expecting. He’s surprised he’s never before noticed the variety.

“Can I ask you something?” he says, overly casually.

“Hmm?”

“Why the hell do you have so many mugs?”

She bursts into a fit of giggles and shoots him a look over her shoulder, noticing the shelf he’s referring to. He pulls down two mugs, about the same size but completely different shapes and colours, and grins as he hears her giggles finally fade out into a hum.

“My children started a tradition when they were little” she says with a smile.

“Really?” he asks with a grin. “Why mugs?”

“Every Mother’s Day- this is when they first started school- they used to ask me for money so they could buy me something from the school fare. I would only give them five dollars each, and so they would each buy me a mug from the stall, because they said that was the only good thing you could get for five dollars”

She finishes her sentence on an airy chuckle, fighting back the giggles. Andy grins at the logic of children and at the fact that even at a young age she had instilled such a sense of pragmatism. He doesn’t say so, but he would love to meet her kids. Even just as friends, or as a colleague, he would love to one day sit down and see the product of Sharon Raydor. If her progress with Rusty is any indication, he thinks she’d have been nothing short of miraculous- he wasn’t kidding before when he said she’s a mother to her core.  

“Your kids kept it up?” he asks, putting teabags into the mugs and pouring the water.

“They did”

“So you got two new mugs every year when they were little?”

She chuckles and hums in affirmation. “Even to this day I get a mug sent to me on Mother’s Day, signed from the both of them. The designs have gotten nicer over the years, but still the same tradition”

Andy wears a big, goofy grin, and collects the milk from the fridge as he watches her face and sees her proud look there. Every time she mentions her children she gets that same look, and he’s honoured to witness it; she obviously adores them.  

He collects her tea and deposits it near her on the bench, blowing over his own and taking a tentative sip. He’s never been much of a tea drinker, but with this new diet and the influence of a tea addict, he’s starting to appreciate it. Plus he loves a warm drink, and is open to trying something different. So far he’s tried a variety of herbal teas-some of them he likes, some he doesn’t, but Sharon keeps throwing them his way, so he gives it a go. Tonight it’s plain black, which he doesn’t mind.

“So, whatcha making?” he asks. She just huffs at him with a smile, and doesn’t answer. He could easily look over her shoulder at the recipe, but he’s happy to rest his hip against the bench and watch her measure out caster sugar and put it in the bowl. He’s practically giddy at the thought of stuffing something so sweet in his mouth, and isn’t the least bit sorry for the innuendo in his own head.

He stands there, fascinated, as he watches her expert hand perform each step of the recipe. She separates her egg whites so quickly and so easily he’s sure she used to bake every week; it’s too practiced to not be a regular thing. She turns on the mixer and gives him a sly look out the corner of her eye, picking up her mug to take a quick sip of her tea while she keeps her focus on the mix. She stops the machine, reaches for a spatula, tests the consistency, and then flicks the button again for a few seconds. He never expected domestic goddess to be added to his list of fantasies, but she’s gone and done it now.

He stands back, enough out of her way to not be a pest, but close enough that he can help if needed, and sips his tea as he watches her move like fluid around her kitchen. A place for everything, and everything in its place, she doesn’t have to think as she reaches for measuring cups and spoons, and then opens another draw and pulls out a single plastic ziplock bag, and then a cupboard and pulls out a green mixing bowl and sieve. The various dry ingredients get sifted into the bowl, large lumps discarded into the sink, and then sifted again out of the green bowl and into the metal mixing bowl. She starts folding the mixture, slow and steady.

“It needs to be smooth” she says, lowly, in the back of her throat. “Viscous, not runny”

He puts down his tea, closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and tries his hardest not to completely come undone at her tone. When he looks back at her she is smirking at him, more than aware of the effect she is creating, and it is a true testament to his strength of will that he doesn’t back her up against the bench, rip her clothes off, and take her hard right there. It’s a position they have yet to try, and after this little exercise he’s putting it at the top of the list. Teasing and foreplay in his kitchen after dinner is one thing- a rarity, but still hot as fire- but this right here; this whole effect is an entirely new level. If she thinks he’s not now going to put forward some fantasies, she has another thing coming.

He meets her eye and her smirk changes just a little bit as she realises the extent of what she’s doing to him; he thinks she’s genuinely surprised by the black of his eyes.

“Can you get me the flat oven tray?” she asks. Her voice is suddenly very airy. She gestures her head towards the oven and quickly looks away.

He collects the tray and places it down on the bench near her.

“And grab some baking paper out of that draw there and cover it, please? It should be the right one for this”

He does as he is told without question or comment. One more move from her is all it will take, and he thinks she must know that, because she is painfully aware of his movements. Good, he thinks, let her know the effect she has.

She quickly finishes preparing the mixture, piping it through the plastic ziplock (which he’s never seen, but finds kind of cute), and putting them in the oven. She sets the timer for twenty minutes, and he thinks he knows what it is, but doesn’t say so. He doesn’t know how, but he manages to ignore her as he makes his way to the couch and turns on the television as a distraction. She joins him, but sits on the armchair, a huge distance between them, and he feels rather smug at the thought that she obviously can’t control herself either.

When the timer goes off he follows her to the kitchen and watches her pull the tray of perfect macaroon halves from the oven. He smacks his lips and she grins at him as she’s wiping the green mixing bowl clean, dusting out the remnants of dry ingredients from earlier. This is the best surprise he could ask for, and his look tells her so.

She quickly makes a simple chocolate butter cream in the now-clean bowl, and sits it next to the tray. The halves look perfect- he can see that only one has cracked along the top. He doesn’t know much about baking, but he has heard that macaroons can be fiddly. She’s obviously done this a thousand times before.

“Can we have one tonight?” he asks. He looks positively gleeful.

“They have to cool first”

He nods, still eyeing the tray of sugary goodness, and then walks without comment back into the living room to sit and watch more television. He looks like an impatient child, and she giggles again. She places the tray on the stove and the bowl of buttercream next to it, and then puts clear wrap over the bowl and a light tea towel over the tray. Then she follows his footsteps back into the living room, flicking the lights off as she goes. He’s on the couch, his back to her and watching the television, and she walks up behind him and slides her hand over his shoulders and around him, her mouth next to his ear.

“I was just going to leave them to cool overnight” she whispers.

He turns his head to look at her. “Oh really” he whispers back.

“Unless you wanted to wait another half an hour for-”

He cuts her off by kissing her hard, his hand coming up to thread in her hair. She moans, and her hands tighten around him fractionally. His body turns to face her better, and then he breaks away and stands up, taking her hand. She laughs at him; at the insistent tugging on her hand even as she pauses long enough to put out the various lamps around the living room. They reach her door and he doesn’t let her go, bending to pick up his overnight bag before pulling her inside.

He drops the bag just inside and spins around to face her. She barely gets the door closed and locked behind her before he’s pulling her into another searing kiss, holding her face in his hands. She moans again as he starts on her buttons, and she pushes him back towards the bed.

“The next time…you bake” he says between kisses, her fingers on his shirt buttons. “… the kid… better not be home”

She chuckles, a deep and throaty sound that’s less humour and more agreement. “And you haven’t even tried them yet” she says breathily, throwing his shirt behind her and starting on his belt.   

“I’m trying it right now” he says, sliding her blouse off her arms and finding the zip of her pants with his fingertips. He feels her stomach quiver under his touch and grins into another kiss.

“Practice makes perfect” she replies.

He only moans and spins her around, gently pushing her back on the bed and pulling her pants down as she shuffles into the middle. He loses his own pants in one go, and then crawls slowly over the top of her, matching grins and a glint in his eye, and they don’t say much else for the rest of the night.  


End file.
